


A boy and his dog

by Duckgomery



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Friendship, M/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Damn it, you’re on to me,” you huff, turning your head to the side.<br/>“Gamzee would have bought that.”</p>
<p>She cackles at this, your own laughter joining not to long after. The brunet rolls of her perch, cuddling into your side.<br/>“You’re always bringing this Gamzee guy up, he must be a close friend,” Terezi enquires.<br/>“He’s my best-friend.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A boy and his dog

You toss your head back as she continues her assault on your sides.  
“God Terezi, stop, for the love of all that is holy,-” you wheeze, limbs flailing this way and that.

She halts, pondering the request, still straddling you.

Girlfriends. 

“What’s in it for me if I comply too such demands?” Trademark grin stretching across her face, scrunching her nose up.

Cute as a button, despite how much of a psycho she is at times.

She’s your psycho after all.

God you love her.

You chuckle nervously.  
“How will eternal love and gratitude do?”

It was worth a shot.

“We all know that that is worth jack shit Karkles, try again.” Her tinted glasses helping add a menacing aura to the girl’s curvy frame.

“Damn it, you’re on to me,” you huff, turning your head to the side.  
“Gamzee would have bought that.”

She cackles at this, your own laughter joining not to long after. The brunet rolls of her perch, cuddling into your side.  
“You’re always bringing this Gamzee guy up, he must be a close friend,” Terezi enquires.

“He’s my best-friend.”

…

 

“Is this seat free for the taking?” You are snapped out of your internal monologue on how much you hate everything by the lazy drawl of the boy standing in the aisle.

“What does it look like you idiot,” you snap back, internally flinching. Sometimes you hated how your mouth worked faster than your brain.

To your surprise he laughs at your comment, after sitting himself down next to you.

“I’m guessing that you’re not a morning person?”

You send him a glare that you hope conveys the answer to the obvious question.

“I’ll leave you to it then. The name’s Gamzee Makara by the way.” The idiot can clearly not sense that you don’t want to talk to him, but his hand is outstretched in a gesture of a peace offering, and unfortunately for you, your Dad had been sure to teach you proper manners during the time he was home long enough to perform his duties as a parent.

“Karkat, Karkat Vantas,” you reply shortly, shaking his hand a tad more forcefully than what was required before dropping it like it was diseased and turning your whole body away from the smiling buffoon, redirecting your glare to the passing world beyond the windows of the school bus.

…

 

“I didn’t really like him at first,” you confess, much to Terezi’s amusement.

“You never like anyone at first. Remember that you’re an asshole,” she chimes in.

“Thanks hun, it’s comforting to know that you feel no remorse in pointing out my flaws, I feel oh so loved.” Arms outstretched for dramatics. “Well I was more of a little shit back then, Dad was always running off with a different organisation every week or so, and I’d been moved from town to town. I wasn’t exactly happy about my lot in life at that point.”

…

 

You curse under your breath as you slam your locker shut and stomp towards the cafeteria. Just because that teacher didn’t like the fact that you had a greater understanding of the English language and the mechanics behind basic sentence structure, she felt the need to lecture you about treating her with respect and that she is more qualified to teach the subject than you. Despite your protests, you are now late for your lunch period.

Reaching the front of the line, you rummage through your pockets for the correct change. Collecting your tray, bearing substances that most closely resemble food, you surveyed the crowded expanse of the cafeteria before coming to a conclusion.

No empty tables.

No seats for you.

You should probably think about getting some friends you loser.

You scowl at the last thought. 

This wouldn’t even be an issue if that dumb bitch hadn’t kept you back. Your method of escaping a class and rushing to the cafeteria hadn’t failed you in the past three weeks at this new school. Why should you fix a system that wasn’t broken?

Too bad you looked like a right loser, standing in the middle of the cafeteria, lunch tray in hand.

“Karkat, over here!” You wince as your name is thrown out into the open, a few heads snap to look at you.

With a grimace you walk over to the ever present thorn in your side that is your ‘bus buddy’.

“Come on, have a seat,” he smiles, patting the empty spot to his side.

As much as you don’t want to, you take the offer, though you go about it as disgruntled as possible, much to the bigger boy’s amusement.

“Everyone this is Karkat. Karkat this is everyone.” He gestures to the other few people occupying the table.

As much as you hate to admit it, despite the fact that you didn’t get any further in your novel of the week, you did end up enjoying the company.

John Egbert took to you like a fish to water and spent most of the time going through a list of all his interests, for which there were many, and cross examining them with your own. The other occupants butted in every now and then, diverting the buck toothed wonder that was John Egbert’s attention long enough for you to get in a few mouthfuls of food, before the interrogation resumed once more.

With a promise to sit with them tomorrow, you made your way to your next class, with Gamzee trailing behind you, humming all the while.

At the end of the day, on the bus home, you actually participated in the normally one sided discussion he starts.

…

 

“I’m impressed on the guys perseverance, anyone else would’ve drop kicked you to the side long before that,” she calls from the couch.

You join her, offering one of the mugs of coffee to her before taking a sip of your own.

“Gamzee was a very special guy, never knew what was good for him. Though despite the fact that most people treated him like garbage, he still saw only the good in the world and everyone in it. I have him to thank for a lot of things.” Tilting your head up slightly, placing a quick peck to Terezi’s lips.

“If it wasn’t for him, I would’ve never had the motivation to do half the things I’ve done, wouldn’t have met most the people I know today. I would’ve never have had the balls to ask you out.”

…

 

“Morning Karbro.” The cheerful tone did nothing to elevate your own mood.

You grunt in response, not bothering to pull yourself up from your desk. Only at this elusive hour was the wooden contraption somewhat comfortable, and as per usual, sleep had eluded you for the longest while.

He chuckles before taking his seat behind you, Egbert having fought tooth and nail to secure the right to sit beside you the week before. You suspect that some shady dealings had taken place behind the scenes due to Dave’s lack of protest in the matter. Who knows? All that matters is that Strider has a desk all to his lonesome whilst you get double teamed by the collective force that is John Egbert and Gamzee Makara.

It seems though that the bucked tooth wonder isn’t here today.

Things may be looking up for you.

Scratch that previous thought.

Life is shit.

When it comes to allocating partners for your English project, Gamzee was more than happy to volunteer to be paired with you.  
Your teacher shall forever be a bitch.

“So when do you want to do it?” you growl at him once you’ve taken your seat in the cafeteria.

“Do what?” he replies, clueless as ever.

You feel the strong urge to bang your head against the closest hard surface available. Alas your tray of questionable solids stands between you and the table. You don’t want that shit anywhere near your hair.

Still, you barely supress it.

“Don’t you remember English this morning? You know, ungodly hour, bitch who doesn’t know what she’s teaching. Ring any bells?” you fume.

You see Dave Strider, wannabe cool-kid extraordinaire, barely supress his laughter, his shoulders quaking silently.

You shoot a glare in his direction.

“Oh yeah, we have a project don’t we, Partner.” He’s beaming at you by the end, smile creasing his face.

You pray to whatever gods that are listening for a swift, painless death.

Scratch that.

Any death will do.

“Yes, that project you numbskull. I suggest we get it out of the way as soon as possible, the least time spent with your idiocy in my vicinity the better.”

Strider gives up, his guffaws destroying all the dramatic tension you had taken care in just laying down.

You throw your empty juice box at his head, knocking his ever present shades askew.

“All right, when do you want to do this then?” he asks.

You pause in your assault on Strider, turning instead to face the bigger boy.

“How about after school or whatever, we can at least get started on planning it out before allocating sections and topics for individual research.”

The bell sounds indicating the end of the lunch period.

“Sure thing bro, your place it is. I’ll see you at the bus stop after school.” He chimes before walking away with an actual skip to his step.

You just stare after him, unable to process whatever had just transpired.

Lucky for you, Dave snaps you out of your stupor.

“Hope you have Faygo.”

The bus ride on the way to your house leaves you emotionally drained. You try your best to be civil to your ‘to be’ guest whilst   
keeping up your ‘Mr Grumpy-pants’ charade. At least that’s what Egbert dubbed it.

And your dad.

You hate people.

Your guest (see intruder) was absolutely buzzing, smile daring not to drop or diminish from his chubby face.  
As you walk around the corner, you see your dad’s car in the driveway much to your surprise.

You didn’t pick up your pace.

Not in the slightest.

Upon entering the house, you give Gamzee a brief tour before leaving him in your room whilst you go and obtain refreshments.

Taking a slight detour from the kitchen, you peak into the lounge room. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your dad’s slumbering form.

Returning to your room, arms laden with a box of donuts and soda, you are greeted with the sight of Gamzee riffling through your DVD collection.

Your DVD collection is heavily comprised of Disney films.

The majority of these films, if caught in a boy such as your self’s possession, would be the holy grail of blackmail material to hold against your person.

“Man, sweet collection you have going bro. Can’t remember the last time I watched any of these. Classics.” He smiles over at you.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

Rather than stand there like a stuffed crab, you dump the contents of your arms onto the ground, pull a notebook out of your bag and turn to your partner.

Work mode activated.

In the end, not much work was accomplished, having instead made the decision to watch a movie or three.

Gamzee’s pout and puppy eyes should be illegal.

You make plans to work on the assignment the next afternoon.

It also has to be rescheduled.

Same with the one after that.

And the one after that.

…

 

“So you always were a grumble bum then” she laughs. 

You bat at her playfully.

“Shoosh you, I’m delightful,” you offer, barely keeping the smile off your face and out of your voice.

She raises a groomed eyebrow.

You get back to it.

…

 

Having been privy to Gamzee’s horrid work during your joint project, you took it upon yourself to tutor the boy. 

That was the sole reason behind having him over after school.

No ulterior motives.

None what so ever.

Anyway, with much effort on your part, a noticeable improvement in his grades happened, much to everyone’s amazement.

“He’s like a super teach, my Karbro here,” he pulls you into a one armed hug.

You do your best to look displeased.

“He has a way of making it so I can know what is going on,” he smiles.

“That’s amazing, Karkat!” John exclaims. “You have to help me with my work sometime too, it’s so boring,” he whines by the end.

“No way, you can do your own homework Egbert, one idiot is all I can handle and he called dibs first this time.” You nod your head over to Gamzee. Realising that he is now the focus, he looks up from attacking his lunch tray and smiles.  
He also smiles showing all his teeth.

His mouth is still full of food.

You look over to Dave.

He nods in understanding.

…

 

You stand up and stretch before heading back into the kitchen.

Rummaging through the fridge, you find some left over Chinese from the other night. 

Giving it a sniff, you deem it edible, chucking the mixed contents onto two plates.

Throwing them in the microwave, you plod on back to the couch.

…

 

“You are not going out there, are you that stupid?” You state.

The howl of the wind and rain help your argument.

“It’s just a little rain Karbro, I’ll be fine.” He tries to reason.

You’re hearing none of it.

“Nope. Nothing you’re saying is being taken into account for the simple fact that you were dropped on your head five to any times as an infant.” You pop your head out of the room.

Judging by the lack of lights on, Dad still wasn’t home.

Time to take matters into your own hands.

You throw a handset at him, which he fumbles with.

“Call your mum or dad or whatever. Let them know what’s happening. God forbid I get the police breathing down my neck for your apparent disappearance just because you didn’t have to common sense or consideration to let your parents know where you are.”

He stares at you dumbly before nodding.

“Good. While you do that, I’ll see what I can put together food wise.”

Stomping off to the kitchen, you can’t help but give yourself a mental pat on the back. Sometimes you think it was a good thing that you got stuck with the parasite that was Gamzee Makara. Only you had the patience and forward thinking required putting up with the likes of him.

By the time the both of you had finished your Mac ‘n’ Cheese, the rain still hadn’t let up.

Your Dad still wasn’t back.

Not that you were surprised.

Would be nice if he thought to call and let you know that he was running late.

Or just to let you know he was okay.

Gamzee was in the same predicament parent wise as you. When he called home, no one had been there, so he left a message saying where he was. You also told him to leave your home number so as to maintain some way of keeping contact.

His dad hadn’t called back either.

You went about retrieving blankets and pillows from various rooms, pilling them up atop your bed.

“As much as I hate to say this, there is no spare bed so we are going to have to double up here.”

He smiles at you.

“That’s fine by me.”

Rummaging through your wardrobe, you find a few articles of clothing that were that bit too big for you.

“Hope these fit, better than sleeping in your clothes at least.”

He barely catches them, but you’re already out of the room, heading to the bathroom with your own change of clothes.

You stop by the answering machine.

No new messages.

No messages at all.

Getting back to your room, you are rewarded with the sight of Gamzee’s head poking out of the pile of blankets.

Putting a DVD in the player, you push him aside so you can get in.

A smile tugs at your lips as you sit beside each other.

…

 

“You are such a softy.” Mouth full of food.

How attractive.

You sure knew how to pick them.

“Whatever. I was an annoying piece of shit of a kid. I hated everything and everyone. You can’t blame me that I took it out on whoever was stupid enough to provoke me.” You at least had the manners to chew and swallow before speaking.

She laughs.

“Still, even as a piece of shit kid, you still acted responsible, even if you apparently hated this guy. Good for you Karkles.” She reaches over to pat your head.

You do not pout.

Pouting is for sissies.

You are not a sissy.

You are plenty manly.

…

 

When you got back from camp, he was a completely new person.

While you had filled out after a summer spent in the outdoors, he’d stretched out. All plumpness being replaced with lanky limbs he had yet to grow into.

Upon seeing you, he ran over, doing his best to sweep you up and around.

You both ended up on the grass.

“I missed you big time Karbro. I was so bored while you were gone.” He turns his head to look at you.

You cross your arms behind your head, not wanting grass and God knows what getting in your hair. 

“I wasn’t gone that long,”

“Dude, six weeks is like forever,” he cuts in.

“I wrote to you every few days, it’s not like I dropped off the face of the planet,” you shoot back.

He laughs.

“God, I missed you, missed this.” Not bothering to elaborate as he become absorbed in watching the sky.

You hum in agreement, joining him in identify shapes in the clouds.

…

 

“That camp, I had to room with some of the most intolerable people, it was only from a year of constant Gamzee that I was able to endure what they put me through.”

“And who were these unlucky souls that had the misfortune of being in the same room as you, I feel like I should send them a card offering my condolences or something,” she chimes sweetly.

You give her one of your dead pan looks.

She gestures for you to get on with it.

“Well there was Equius, big, sweaty guy, thirteen year olds should not look like they do steroids, bit of a snob really. Then we have Eridan, gay hipster, all you need to know. Sadly he’s gotten worse with time. Last but not lease, we have Thollux.”

She hits you on the arm as you crudely imitate your mutual friend’s speech impediment.

“That explains how you two met, I always wondered how that hermit met half the people he knows.”

“Yeah, well, I kept in contact with that lot throughout the year, mainly online. As much as I hate to admit it, I kind of pushed Gamzee to the side in favour of them,” you admit guiltily.

…

 

“Karbro, you cool to chill after school?” You squawk in surprise, having been startled out of your inner musings by the pair of hands clamping down onto your shoulders.

You give him a look that you are sure can curdle milk, but as to be expected at this stage, he smiles it off with that dopey grin of his.

“Sorry Gamzee, going to have to cancel again.” He whines in protest.

“That’s the third time this week,” he mumbles.

“It’s Eridan, he’s throwing his monthly dramatics and needs all the advice I’m kind enough to bestow upon his unworthy noggin.”

He’s turned away from you, even so, you know he’s pouting.

So mature.

“Fine, tag along, see if I care. Don’t come whining to me when you have Mister ‘I have a total boner for wizards even though I firmly believe that magic is bollocks’ getting all up in your business and never letting you out of his slimy grasp like the parasite that he is.” Arms raised in indignation.

Like the puppy he is, he bounds after you, all smiles.

Almost like nothing happened.

Almost like he was back to his old, insufferable self.

His actions looked almost sincere rather than mechanical or forced.

Almost.

…

 

“Why do you say ‘almost’, did something happen?” her voice wavering in concern.

You rest your head on her shoulder.

“It was nothing really. We were both growing up, changes happen. He just wasn’t well for a while.”

“What do you mean by unwell?” she questioned hesitantly.

…

 

You were woken up to the ringing of your phone.

You check caller ID.

Gamzee Makara.

You check the time

2:33am on a school day.

“This better be important, some of us are trying to sleep,” you yawn.

“There’s something wrong Karkat, something bad, it’s all up in my business and it won’t go away, it’s following me, it’s in my hair, GOD IT’S IN MY HAIR!” the voice sobs at you, nearing hysterics by the end.

“Gamzee?”

“It’s all up in my business, all up in it, won’t leave me alone, slimy as fuck, DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME, it’s laughing at me, God I hate it’s laughing, SHUT UP JUST SHUT UP,”

You’re now wide awake.

“Gamzee, can you calm down for a moment,” you ask as calmly as you can.

“I don’t know Karkat, I don’t know, it won’t stop laughing at me, there’s nothing funny going on, why is it laughing?” he softly mumbles into his end of the phone.

You take a few deep breaths, ordering him to do the same.

“Is your dad here Gamzee?”

“What do you fucking think, if he was he’d be doing his fucking job of scaring the bad monster away, make them stop laughing.”

“Gamzee, focus here,” you cut in, thinking it was a good time to intervene as any.

The only sign that he is still there is his breathing and the occasional whimper.

“Ok, you still with me?” you here a slight sound of agreement.

Close enough.

“I want you to tell me about your favourite movie, can you do that for me?” 

God you hope this works.

“What do you mean Karkat, what has that to do with anything, why would that make it stop laughing?” his voice begins to waver once more.

The boat is rocking, better step in quickly.

“You called me and woke me from my precious beauty sleep, so we do things my way. So. Tell. Me. About. Your. Favourite. Movie.” you state once more.

“I don’t know, it’s hard to think, especially with all this noise going on.”

“Tell. Me.” Intervening once more.

“But-”

“Now Gamzee, or God help me, I’ll end this call right now.”

The other end is silent and you worry for a second.

If that.

Who were you kidding.

Really now.

“Gamz,” you start.

“Well, I really have a soft spot for Ace Ventura,” he begins softly.

“That piece of shit, seriously?” you chime in.

“Don’t diss Carrey man, he is golden.” And for a moment you hear the old Gamzee.

Cheerful.

Optimistic.

See’s the good in everything.

Gamzee.

“Seriously though? He’s a one trick pony, pick another film, I don’t want to be hearing about this.” Going through the banter on automatic, smile beginning to creep slowly onto your face as it progresses.

You pull yourself upright, situating yourself more comfortably in your cocoon of blankets. You sit there listening to your friend ramble, offer your wise words of wisdom, taking care to steer him into a new topic when he starts to slip back.

You have to do this less and less as the hours progress.

…

 

“He eventually got treatment, but not for a while. Had to talk him down and out of his episodes so many times before that, it’s no wonder my sleep is all out of what.” You try to make light of it.

She rests her head atop of yours.

“I’m impressed Karkat, you did good in an extremely difficult situation there. I don’t think I could have done that if that had happened to me,” she confesses.

“That’s high praise from the likes of you, I’m going to treasure that.” 

You offer her a smile.

She rewards you with a ‘playful’ shove that send you to the floor.

You flip her off.

She pokes her tongue out.

You are the most mature of adults.

No one is more mature than the two of you.

She stretches out on the couch, eliminating all hopes of regaining a seat up there.

You situate yourself into a somewhat comfortable position on the floor.

…

 

“Hey boys!” your dad calls from the doorway.

“Sup, Mr Vantas” Gamzee responds.

“Hi Dad” you mutter.

You may be a bit irritated with him since his no show at your orchestra performance.

Not that you were looking out for him or anything.

You were not sulking.

Not in the slightest.

“I thought that you two might be hungry so I got pizza and a few other snacks.” He always does his best to keep the peace.

At the mention of food you and Gamzee snap to attention. His skinny frame bounds out of the room with new found energy before you’re even up off the floor.

You follow close behind.

Your Dad grasps your shoulder and you turn, looking up slightly to meet his gaze.

He smiles at you apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck.

A nervous habit of his.

You let out a sigh.

“It’s alright Dad, not every parent goes to those things anyway, no need to do all this grovelling and appeasing, not that I’m complaining or anything,” you grumble, snapping your head to the side.

He ruffles your hair in the way that only he is allowed to.

“I’ll be at the next one, promise,” he smiles.

You wish he’d stop making promises you both knew he wouldn’t be able to keep.

“Did Gamzee’s dad go?” he queries.

You both already know the answer.

You wish that Gamzee’s dad at least put in the effort to make promises, even if he didn’t keep them.

You wish that Gamzee would be treated better.

You wish for a lot of things now that you think about it.

You enter the kitchen, your Dad following close behind.

Both of you crack a smile at the sight of Gamzee already half way through scarfing down one of the waiting pizzas.

Neither of you chastise him for his lack of table manners.

You both know that he needs all the food he can get.

All he is is skin and bones these days.

You wonder when the last time someone went grocery shopping in his house.

You wonder when was the last time his dad was home.

You wonder about a lot of things too it seems.

…

 

“Honestly, I used to think that I had it bad in terms of father figures. While mine was either out or sleeping, at least I saw him. Gamzee sometimes went weeks without any contact from his dad.  
“He knew he’d been around though. Every few days there would be an envelope waiting for him on the kitchen counter, full of cash.  
“Gamzee never really let it show, but it must have hurt to know that your only flesh and blood didn’t want anything to do with you.” You pause for a moment, collecting your thoughts in the substantially heavier atmosphere. You’re thankful for Terezi’s silence.

“By the time we were sixteen, Gamzee pretty much lived at my place, only heading back to his place every now and then to pick up the cash his dad left for him, and the occasional raiding of the liquor cabinet.”

You smile fondly, not really looking at anything in particular.

“By this stage, Dad, knowing that I wouldn’t be home alone, and seeing that I was older, went on more and more business trips.  
“Being the cashed up teenagers that we were, we made the most of our combined assets and resources.”

“Let me guess, rad parties,” she states, the smile threatening to break forth ruining the dead pan that she delivered the line with.

“Only the raddest,” you throw straight back.

…

 

You pass from room to room, unable to recognise most anyone. Then again, with this lighting and the amount of booze you had already ingested, really it was to be expected.

You stumble on back to the kitchen, rummaging through the plethora of alcohol on the counter.

Raising a bottle of Schnapps in triumph, you teeter out of the room, heading towards the heavy booming of the poor excuse of music coming from the speakers.

While at school you may have been known as a bit of a loser with your high marks, the people you associated with and the fact that you could use words that contained more letters than you had fingers.

Here though.

Right here.

You reigned supreme.

Having long ago figured out the perfect ratio of snacks and mixers.

The best lighting to maintain.

What rooms to keep under lock and key.

To put up signs directing party goers to the bathroom.

That last one was a hard learnt lesson. 

You’d never make the mistake of overestimating your guests ever again.

Anyway.

Back on topic.

You were king.

And these shit-stains of society.

Your tormentors.

Are now your loving, adoring subjects.

Puckering up at the chance to have an invitation extended their way to one of you and Gamzee’s now legendary parties.

Speaking of Gamzee.

You slam back the bottle one final time, sadly coming back empty.

Standing uncertainly for a moment, you wobble through the throng of intoxicated teens commandeering the dance floor, before arriving to your destination.

You hold on to the railing as you descend the sporadically pulsating steps of your basement.

You were intoxicated, not brain dead after all.

Sitting at the bottom was Gamzee, taking a hit of a circulating bong before letting it continue its cycle.

“Hey Karbro,” he drawls, clumsily slapping the spot next to him.

You fall on top of him with all the grace of a one legged swan suffering a seizure.

He reeks of booze and smoke, both tobacco and something a tad more on the herbal side.

Then again, you’re one to talk.

“Whoa there,” he chuckles as you wiggle about, sleepy smile stretching across your usually rigid face.

You get yourself comfortable in his bony lap, leaning your head against his protrusion of a shoulder, giggling to yourself all the while.

“What’s gotten my lil’ buddy here all up in the chuckles?” he asks, playing with your smaller hands all the while.

You lean up until your breathing straight into his ear.

“I think I’m dr-, drun-, drunk,” you attempt to whisper.

Attempt is the key word here.

“Really? , had not the slightest, bro. You’re handling it pretty well is what’s happening with that,” he plays along, both of you wearing matching grins.

He accepts the bong, loading up the crucible with a fresh load of grass, catching it with his lighter and taking a hit.

You feel his chest shift as he breathes in.

Feel the motion halt as he holds it in.

Sink with it as he lets it out.

Heart beating sluggishly beneath your hand.

You whine, looking up at him pleadingly.

With a knowing smile he relents, taking another hit before pressing his lips to yours.

You breathe in the second hand smoke, loving the taste of it against your tongue.

Loving the way it travels down the back of your throat.

Loving the softness and warmth of the pair of lips pressed to yours.

As you pull away, you don’t mention how he lingered longer than necessary.

Or how he attempted to coax your lips into doing more than was necessary.

…

 

“We did a lot of crazy and stupid things in those days. We were teenagers with undefined boundaries and no adult supervision after all. Even had a run in or two with the police. They were some of the best, most fun times I’ve had thought to be honest.” 

You look over to her sheepishly.

She elbows you in the ribs.

“That is, of course, until I started getting my romance on. I had quite the string of lovers and admirers back in those days, hard to keep the ladies away with a hot bod like this,” you tease, flexing your frame, small in every sense of the word.

She pokes her tongue out once more.

Poster child of maturity, that’s your girl.

“My first girlfriend, and only until a year or so back, was Nepeta. Nepeta Leijon. She was a real sweet thing, that girl. It was a shame that she and Gamzee never really got along. Continual cats and dogs if those two were within the vicinity of each other.   
Fun times for me, I can assure you.”

…

 

“What the fuck did you do to her!?” you screech, not caring that he was flinching.

You had suffered through enough of his fumbling before.

You could only tolerate his stupidity for so long.

This time he had seriously fucked up.

“She was in fucking hysterics after you spoke to her. I was only out of the room for five minutes. What the fuck did you say to her!?” You screamed into his face, hands digging into his boney shoulders.

He still refused to look at you, eyes fixated to the floor.

You shake him to no effect.

You let go of him, turning to leave the room.

His hand darts out and grabs your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Kar,” he starts, voice wavering.

“I just…” his voice catches at the end.

“Just what Gamzee? Just what?” you prod, voice full of contempt.

He goes back to playing silent.

“Yeah that’s right, too stupid to even think of reasonable explanation for the shit you just pulled, just like always,” you bitterly spit out.

His hand tightens its grip.

You can feel him trembling through the tightly stretched fabric.

“That’s just fucking typical isn’t it, thinking I can dig you out of whatever graves you dig for yourself. Gues  
s what though, you’re getting no help from me this time you fucktard, you have seriously fucked up.”

You tug your arm out of his grasp.

After reaching the doorway, you turn to look back.

He’s cradling his head in his hands.

You do not pity him in the slightest.

He was the one who messed up.

He always messed everything up.

You’ve had enough of his shit.

“Get out,” you hiss.

He gives no visible sign of having heard.

“Get the fuck out.” Voice rising.

He looks up, face blotchy.

“Kar,” he starts.

“Get the fuck out! I don’t want to see you again!” you scream, arm pointing to the door.

God, he’s fucking crying.

You are not feeling guilty.

Not in the slightest.

Still, he deserves this.

He.

Fucking.

Deserves.

This.

You stomp out of the room, slamming the door to your room behind you.

Flopping down on your bed your listen.

You hear the shuffling of footsteps heading to your door.

You hear them stop.

You hear the barely there sobs coming from the other side of the door.

You hear the pleas.

The apologies.

How he always loved you.

You didn’t flinch.

How he wished that you would be more than friends.

You look back on all your past interactions.

How he just couldn’t sit by and watch you slip further and further away.

You feel like an idiot.

How he just wanted you to be happy.

How could you have been so oblivious for so long.

Even if it wasn’t with him anymore.

He just wanted his ‘little bro’ back.

You do not shed tears.

Not at all.

You ignore them.

Ignore them all.

You’re strong.

You won’t cave in.

He deserved it.

You won’t cave in.

Eventually you hear the click the front door clicking shut, you let out a breath that you never realised you were holding in.

You run a hand through your hair and pick up your phone.

Time to see if you could patch things up with your girlfriend.

You’re sick of having to clean up his messes.

Such a pain.

You did the right thing.

He deserved that.

Didn’t he?

…

 

All is silent in your apartment.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

You look up, head resting on her legs.

“He was like a puppy when I first met him, all chubby and full of energy. Nothing could discourage him.” You smile fondly.

She sends one back.

“I pretty much took him in, caring for him, feeding him, gave him a home.”

She doesn’t comment on your watering eyes or wavering voice.

“He was my dog, my best friend.” You smile.

Her hands comb through your hair.

“Dogs don’t get along well with cars. Not in the slightest.”


End file.
